


How Long Until He Sees Me Again?

by Blue_Stars_Above



Series: How Long Indeed? [3]
Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Alone in Bed ;3, Ficlet, M/M, Masturbation, Sorta? It's under 700 words, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Stars_Above/pseuds/Blue_Stars_Above
Summary: Home alone and yearning, Hamish wishes for one thing-- Randall, and his hands on him. Guess he'll have to take pleasure into his own hands.
Relationships: Randall Carpio/Hamish Duke
Series: How Long Indeed? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819876
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	How Long Until He Sees Me Again?

**Author's Note:**

> So...I wrote this in one night. Idk why but the spirit of Randall x Hamish has possessed me tonight. Have fun!

Rolling over in bed, the neon clock read 3:32 A.M. With a sigh, Hamish flopped back onto his bed, legs tangling in the thin sheets. It was hot for a September night, and even with the fan blowing his legs were coated in sweat. Normally, when sleepless, he’d grab a classic off his bookshelf and read till he was nodding off, but tonight he was restless in a different way. He was restless in the stereotypical college student way-- filled with hormones, demanding satisfaction. 

His eyes made their way to the bedroom door, shut so only a sliver of light emerged from underneath. No one else was in the house tonight -- Lilith was off at a party with Nicole, probably sleeping over at her dorm; Jack was out doing God knows what with Alyssa; and Randall.... Hamish sighed once more. Randall was visiting family. He was all alone tonight and, considering his status as an early riser, expected to be alone when he woke up.

On a night like this, he actually missed having people around, all too aware of what was lacking. Lilith’s heavy snores, the sound of Jack trying to sneak cookies out of the fridge in the twilight hours, Nicole occasionally tiptoeing upstairs to visit her girlfriend, and Gabrielle stalking around while she did late-night homework at their place for whatever reason. More specifically, though, Hamish missed Randall, and terribly so.

His hand drifted, ever so slowly, to the band of his boxers. He was just pulling the fabric away from his damp skin, airing himself out that was all-- that was what he’d say if anyone was around. He didn’t have to make excuses now. Hamish gripped his crotch more firmly.  _ Randall _ .

Randall. Hamish imagined Randall’s long fingers sliding up and down his shaft, just as he had begun to do. Up and down, ever so slowly, teasingly, a pace that made Hamish growl, demanding more though there was no one to hear his pleas. Down to the base of his shaft, and then slowly up up up, thumb rubbing at his slit where precum had just begun to ooze.

Randall’s firm arm, speeding up under Hamish’s grip. Randall’s smug grin whenever moans and cut-off murmurs slipped out between Hamish’s lips. Randall’s brown eyes, so intent and focused on Hamish under him. Randall, Randall,  _ Randall _ . 

He couldn’t get his mind off him, but why would he want to? Why would Hamish ever want to stop thinking of him and, when Randall was back, how he’d be able to ask him for all Hamish had imagined in the meantime. He already knew Randall would happily comply, reveling in the task, and the thought only made Hamish’s hips jerk more with another swipe of his thumb over his slit.

Reaching over to the nightstand, Hamish fumbled for some lotion, and sighed with relief as his hand, now cool and slick, coated his dick. Up and down, but more quickly now, a tempo that sped up as he envisioned what Randall would do. A kiss to his neck, more sucking as he planted possessive hickies down Hamish that he would have to hide in the morning; a firm hand over his chest, playing with Hamish’s nipples, another sensation to finally push him over the edge. Right hand occupied, Hamish’s left drifted upwards to roll his nipple between his fingers. A soft cry passed between his lips. 

Hot and sticky, tenfold more than when he’d begun, Hamish watched his length in his own hand. Left hand dropping to the sheets below him, he wished he was fisting his hand in Randall’s curly hair instead, bringing his lips down to Hamish’s own. Soft and slightly chapped, with his warm tongue and the feel of his breath, speeding up as they continued-- it was all so much. 

Too much. Before he could reach over for the tissues, he felt himself flooding with warmth, a warmth that traveled down to his hips all too quickly and--

In that old rickety house, on a summery night that bordered on dawn, Hamish milked himself with a cry for Randall.


End file.
